


The Reanimator

by Apricots_from_Nara



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Brain Damage, Deal With It, Fucked Up Relationships, M/M, Resurrection, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Medicine, i will inject overpan into everthing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricots_from_Nara/pseuds/Apricots_from_Nara
Summary: Tarantulas moved to him, hands on Overlord’s back as he leaned in closer. “I have the means. You have the body. Want to try?”The pause was long and painful. Perhaps he was not as twisted as Tarantulas had surmised. But eventually, Overlord’s chassis rumbled with a chuckle. “Yes. I do.”





	The Reanimator

The volcano was indeed the perfect place. Utterly safe, but Humans were paranoid little things. They stayed far away, out of fear.

Tarantulas set up the equipment, Overlord hauling it in, along with his own things. The decepticon had no ship of his own, but he had his cargo. he left for a few days into space, and brought it in.

Most he tossed aside carelessly, but one, tall enough to reach the rogue's hip, was handled with care. Unlike the others, it was kept closed.

What could it be? A special weapon perhaps? Tarantulas just had to know. 

He was not to subtle about it either. Overlord noticed, smirking.

“Do you want to see?” Overlord tilted the container back, laying it gently on the ground. He did not wait for a response, servos pulling the lid off, “I must admit. I want to see too. It’s been so long. Took me forever to find him again.”

“Him?” Curiosity peaked, Tarantulas leaned over.

It was a corpse. A very long dead one. Not only was the paint ashen, but eroding. The derma of the face was dried and flaking. This mech was millenia dead from what looked like their spark being vivisected.

Tarantulas leaned in, getting a closer look. They looked familiar.

“That is... Trepan. The Trepan. Inventor of-”

“Trepan’s Trigger. Yes. I am... Intimately aware of that little trick.” Overlord sounded annoyed, crouching down and sighing. “Oh pet. You are drying out again.”

Overlord glanced up at Tarantulas from under his heavy brows. “You knew him?”

“No not at all. But I knew of him. You know I always theorized that Mnemosurgeons would be able to resist my sound maze. They are so used to being bombarded with visions and noises when they work.” he reached in, and overlord grabbed his hand, almost tight enough to crush, pushing it harshly away,

“Only I may touch him.” Overlord hissed. Anger. Tarantulas had not seen anger from Overlord yet. Only detached cheerfulness.

“Hmm... Must of died when I was in the maze. Last I heard of him he was alive. You did this yes?”

Overlord scoffed like he was insulted. “I would never hurt him.” Overlord reached in himself, a hand moving under Trepan’s upper back. The corpse’s head lolled back as it was lifted slightly, more of the derma cracking and flaking. 

It may have been an old corpse, but it was a well maintained one, aside from the drying and eroding paint.

“Trepan was my teacher. I had aspirations on being a mnemosurgeon. you see. And I picked Trepan to teach me. But he was taken from me... Such a shame. I was going to keep him.”

Just as obsessed with this corpse as he was with Megatron. Tarantulas could see it plain as day. He watched as Overlord sat Trepan on his knee, fussing over the damage and mumbling how he should of stored him better while he had been away. 

How often had Overlord coddled the corpse like it was a doll?

How morbid. How fascinating.

\------

The next time Tarantulas saw ‘Trepan’, his face had been restored somewhat. The damage was done, the derma around the mouth the most cracked, but the dryness was reversed. His erosion had been buffed away. and he was posed in a little throne overlord had cooked up from the volcanic rock. 

Like a little shrine.

He stepped closer out of curiosity, scurrying for a scanner to make up for his inability to touch.

Trepan was well preserved. Sure he was not freshly dead, but his parts were still useful. And his processor could be harvested and have its memories removed with great ease. His mind raced with ideas. Oh the things he could get out of him. His needles, his memories. All of him.

All of him.

His dear Ostaros crossed his mind, and that lead to another thought that made him giddy. Yes he had his other plans with earth, and Overlord as well. But this was... Tasty.

He looked through what was left of his notes, barely enough to make it easy. But his memory was impeccable.

“Tell me Overlord, are you familiar with human literature?” Tarantulas asked, filling in the blanks.

Overlord turned from his seat, small glass of Obtenteum in his hand. Tarantulas was only just beginning to make more, but even the smallest amount could power the rogue decepticon. “.... No. Why would I be?”

“Well its all quite fascinating. While i spoke with you I also read their books. ‘The Modern Prometheus’ was my favorite.”

“Never heard of it.” he also sounded like he didn’t care. But he would.

“Well the basis is simple. One day, a human man, decides he wants to make life. And so he takes human corpses to build himself a man.” he finished filling the gaps, looking over his shoulder to Overlord. “Another was ‘Herbert West–Reanimator’. In that one, a human man sought to raise the dead.”

Overlord didn’t answer this time. Tarantulas moved to him, hands on Overlord’s back as he leaned in closer. “I have the means. You have the body. Want to try?”

The pause was long and painful. Perhaps he was not as twisted as Tarantulas had surmised. But eventually, Overlord’s chassis rumbled with a chuckle. “Yes. I do.”

\----

Trepan’s corpse was emptied of broken parts. Some eroded by time, like his tanks for processing energon. Some damaged by his murder. The chamber for his spark was replaced with something similar to what Ostaros’ body had. It was all rebuilt from scratch. Laborious, and it ate at his time with his timemaze. But he could care less. This was exciting. 

He had brought the dead back before. Snuffed out sparks and put in new ones just to try it. But their bodies were fresh dead. Their sparks real. This was a corpse bordering on eroding away. A spark he made with his own loving hands. How would it react? What would happen?

The Obtenteum made it easier to find a power source this time around. Now he just had to convert it into plasma, compress it until it held a form like a spark, induce it to become self sustaining, and make sure it could be compatible with the body. 

Very difficult.

Tarantulas sent Overlord out once a week into deep space to find materials. Overlord was invested. A little padding to his loyalty could never hurt.

At the same time though he knew failure was not really an option. One mistake could destroy the corpse Overlord coveted. Who knew how the decepticon would react to such a mistake. 

Probably rage. Overlord already was getting agitated with the desecration of his ‘pet’s’ body. He was fidgety and agitated. Not good at all. 

\-----

Tarantulas leaned over the console, face plastered to the screen. Failure. Failure. Failure. His servos typed with trained precision, moving to the next experiment just as quickly as the last started. The plasma was holding its spherical shape but it was not sustaining itself like a real spark. Unstable.

Unstable meant exploding bodies. Unacceptable.

There had to be a way to make it hold. Something to put a little life into it.

Oh of course. How could he be so forgetful?! He needed a living spark to jumpstart it.

“You are a point one percenter yes?” Tarantulas suddenly asked, turning to Overlord who was rehydrating Trepan’s face. 

“I am.” Overlord dabbed around Trepan’s mouth, trying to fix what was unfixable. For now at least. Once this new artificial spark took, his sentio metalico would self repair such minor damage again.

“I need your spark. Come here. Charge this plasma.”

Overlord gave a fond pet to the corpse, Standing and making his way over to the mad scientist. His chest opened, bathing the dim room with green.

Tarantulas pulled out spark plugs. A human invention. It was crude but it was faster then making something. He clipped them to Overlord’s spark chamber, then to the machine.

“Give it some love.”

The room grew brighter with Overlord’s spark surging, his red optics watching the spark.

It morphed and warped with the power, expanding, contracting. Such a pretty sight. Just like Ostaros’ spark.

Finally it compressed further, a sickly yellow green, with a bright center. Was it stable? It certainly looked different then before. Tarantulas scanned it.

“Eureka!” Both mechs fawned over their success. 

It was alive. And in the coming week, it did not falter. 

\------

“Everything that needed to be replaced was replaced. Yes?” Overlord pressed, hovering. 

“Yes yes. New fuel tank, new tubes. Its all replaced.” tarnatulas’ other legs moved, pushing Overlord away so the mech was not blocking his light.

He mad a few final adjustments, finally setting the spark in the chamber. Tarantulas reached up, bringing down his new, less crude ‘spark plugs’ rigging them up to trepan’s body.

He pulled the switch, and shocked the body. it arched, then fell slack again. The cradle for the spark did not clamp. Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

“Why isn’t It working?” Overlord hissed, looming again.

“Your teacher has been dead for so long. It’s bound to take a while. Patience.” Tarantulas pulled the switch again, turning it off after a few seconds. Short jolts were better for the processor.

Overlord pushed him away. Taking the switch and flipping it on.

“No you mustn’t, if you do it to long you will fry his processor!” Tarantulas scrambled to remove Overlord’s hand, but was pushed away again, harder this time.

Trepan’s corpse arched and trembled, some ligaments in his legs snapping form the strain. After a minute of solid charge, his cradle snapped closed. His body gave a hard jolt, and Overlord turned the electricity off.

Color. Movement. Violent movement. Trepan writhed, servos clawing at his new spark. Overlord took his hands and gently pulled them away. Just letting Trepan writhe.

How interesting. Perhaps he was remembering his murder? Tarantulas moved closer. He certainly looked terrified.

Soon Trepan went limp, cracked lips parted slightly. They moved like he was silently murmuring.

“Trepan?” Overlord set his hands back down. Trepan only blinked. Optics slowly rolling to him. His lips moved a little faster, before simply remaining slightly parted.

“You fried him.” Tarantulas said, disappointed. It worked but Overlord in his impatience had ruined it, “You will be lucky if he can even walk after this.”

Overlord ignored him, scooping Trepan up, back on his knee. This time, Trepan held his head up, leaning it on Overlord’s chassis as his eyes slowly rolled about, looking at the room. Better then a ragdoll.

“I got you. You are fine.” Overlord said firmly, holding Trepan close. Trepan’s lips parted again and moved. No sound. No other reaction.

There was some hope. Perhaps Overlord was the key.

\-------

Trepan was walking in a week. However he remained vacant eyed and silent. Blankly staring and lips, now healed, mumbling some unknown thing. Tarantulas’ attempts to garner a reaction ushered nothing. Trepan ignored him. How infuriating. Trepan was like his second child in a way, yet unlike Ostaros he didn’t acknowledge him.

Overlord though...

“Come here, Trepan.”

Trepan turned slowly walking towards Overlord. Trepan looked at the floor as he reached Overlord’s seated frame, only looking up when Overlord picked him up.

“Time to refuel.” Overlord pushed a cube into Trepan’s hands, the mech clutching it to his chassis, head resting against the blue expanse of Overlord’s torso. With a nudge of a finger, Trepan lifted it to his face and after a moment he drank.

Trepan was either totally fried and would always need this kind of coddling, or buried under all the mess Overlord made with rushing things, he was there, waiting to be fixed by someone more capable then them.

Considering Trepan only listened to the rogue, it was the second.

Tarantulas watched as Overlord leaned down and kissed Trepan. Trepan dropped the cube, hand’s clutched into fists.

Truly Overlord was just as mad as he.

\-------

“Watch her, Pan-cake.” Overlord dropped Verity Carlo onto the floor, stepping over to Tarantulas and ignoring her as they proceeded to lightly bicker.

“Pan-cake? You even know what those are Thunderlips?” She looked up at the mech that was crouching in front of her, like a child watching ants.

“So what is you’re story?” Verity whipped the corner of her mouth, frowning as ‘pan-cake’ only blinked, “Helloo?? Anyone home?”

‘Pan-cake’s’ mouth parted and moved. No sound came out. They moved, finger moving a bit to close to her. At least he was not as massive as Overlord but considering Overlord bothered with a pet name, this transformer was not her friend. 

“Hey hey hey, don’t touch me.” she swatted at his finger, jumping as a needle shot out and almost hit her leg.

“Trepan don’t tease her.” Tarantulas scolded, “She’s Ostaros’ friend. So she is your friend too.”

Trepan pulled his finger away, now simply looking at the needle he had produced.

“Thats a good boy. Your brother will be please you didn’t hurt her when he gets here.

His vacant eyes Verity realized, had a bit of life to them now, like he was actually seeing something.

\------

“What are we going to do with him?” 

Springer watched as Trepan fumbled with the timemaze, his mouth silently moving rapidly. “I don’t know Verity. No place here for a dead mech.”

“Dead? Thats not dead.” Verity said, motioning to Trepan as he began to pound on the timemaze, trying to make it turn on, “I mean I know he’s obviously a little out of it, but he’s not dead... Stop that!”

“Trepan is dead. He’s been dead for thousands of years. Over a million years ago Trepan was taken by Overlord. He was declared dead. I got a debrief on Overlord before Garrus-9.”

“He’s literally... I said stop trying to turn it on you are not getting that freak back.” Verity could not actually stop Trepan of course, “He’s right there.”

“Did Tarantulas say anything about him?” Springer asked, taking Trepan by the wrist and pulling him away.

“Just that... You were his brother?” Verity snorted, “Thunderlips called him ‘pan-cake’. Dumb right?”

_Brother...._

“I will take him with me.” Springer said quietly.

“Wouldn’t there be two Trepans then?”

“There will be two of me. What does it matter for an extra double. He can get help there.”

He said his goodbyes. A final hug to verity.. Trepan didn’t resist going into the timemaze, in fact he went in first once the time was set.

He wondered offhandedly as he followed if this Trepan with a fake spark and a scattered mind could possibly change the Overlord of the past.

That certainly was an unlikely, but pleasant thought.

**Author's Note:**

> i would love some comments and feed back on this utterly self indulgent crap fest. Thank you!


End file.
